


Taking Care

by Eturni



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Martim Week 2021 (The Magnus Archives), Martim week: sleepover, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No beta we kayak like Tim, Trauma, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eturni/pseuds/Eturni
Summary: Sometimes the best thing you can do after eldritch worms invade your work is have a sleepover with your hot coworker.For day 5 of MarTim week.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Martim Week 2021





	Taking Care

“Y’know you didn’t have to wait up for me,” Tim grinned as best he could around the sting and tear of the wounds in his cheeks.

“Well, you know me,” Martin huffed a slight laugh, tugging anxiously at the already frayed edges of his jumper. “Got to make sure everyone gets out safe. I mean, it’s pretty intense for Jon to pull us in for  _ statements _ right after all that.”

“Like you weren’t the one storming in with a tin of dead worms demanding you get to make your statement about it all a few weeks ago?” Tim very carefully shifted to cross his arms, certain the wince made it a less pointed gesture.

“Yeah I- that was definitely a thing I did. But, it  _ was _ my choice, and not just getting dragged into the boss’s office. I mean, you should probably be glad that stupid gag got you quarantined. Sasha went first and ended up having to talk to  _ Elias _ after. I’d feel sorry for her only… I mean she really went off about how long it took him to set the system off. It was pretty funny, really. Or would’ve been if not- y’know- if not for… everything. It’s funny now, at least.”

There was that little forced half-laugh again, and Tim got the feeling it wasn’t just the too-long day and bad management that was the problem.

Tim got it, honestly. The painkillers were kicking in and it was almost worse because he  _ itched. _ Just right below the skin, right in all of the wounds that weren’t still screaming with pain where the corkscrew’d had to go a little too deep.

“In my defence I was still high at the time,” he settled for instead of anything too serious.

Martin sighed, looking at Tim like he was searching for something even though there was still fear and reticence there behind it all. “Are you alright?”

“At least as alright as you are.”

For all that Martin was good at hiding his reactions, the poor guy was absolutely knackered and had a second trauma on top of hitting a double word score on the worms. He could be forgiven for the second or two his face switched to ‘chewing on a wasp’ mode before he tried to push for gentle but firm concern.

“I’m not taking that from the man who had to run through the worm tunnels  _ twice _ with enough CO2 in his lungs to take out a small elephant.”

“Yeah, well given that you were-” also trapped in your house by the buggers for a fortnight. Living in the archives that were no longer secure. Taking any excuse to hang around late to make sure everyone else gets out safe.

Tim clicked his tongue quietly. Jon might be the one practically screaming ‘amdram’ on a daily basis but it didn’t mean Tim had no skill in theatrics. Especially not when a role counted this much. He put everything in looking just the right mix of freaked out and slightly uncomfortable (it wasn’t hard). “Hey, so, bit naff maybe but after all that I really don’t know if I wanna be stuck alone tonight looking for crawlers in the shadows. We’re signed off for a while anyway. Would you mind hanging out for the night? Could order an indian in, watch something awful, call it a sleepover?”

He glanced back for a second, no doubt still hoping to see Jon out of the building and safe, but nodded an affirmative anyway. “Course. You got your own corkscrew or should we stop by Tescos on the way back?”

“Think I’ll get a nice new sterilised one anyway just in case. Need some popcorn anyway. Maybe some Revels if you’ll take the coffee ones, and some decent tea. I've only got the hard water ones and honestly it was a mistake. I think you’d kill me if that was all you had to drink. Maybe a bottle or two of something as well, for once the gas wears off.”

Martin looked genuinely concerned for a moment as he led them off towards the tube station. “Alcohol’s probably not-”

“Maybe not, and maybe I won’t, but they also don’t have a ‘no drinking if you’re mixing painkillers with sentient worm trauma’ rule so I get to make it up as I go along,” he declared.

There was a tutting sound at his side but no other arguments and Tim considered it a win. He probably wouldn’t, honestly, but the option was nice. Tuesday was the new Friday.

By the time they reached Tim’s flat with their acquisitions Tim was near grinding his teeth. The very good painkillers had hit full swing and left the itching a thing that was nearly burrowing into his brain. It had gotten enough that Martin had insisted they get some oven gloves. Tim had considered a chicken pox joke but there’d been so many people too close and the itching was maddening and honestly he just ended up being happy to agree to anything to get out of the situation.

That being said, Revels had gone out the window when Martin insisted on mixed popcorn. That kind of heathen move would make for more than enough food surprises for one night.

He headed straight through to the kitchen to dump the bag on the counter, barely remembering to tell Martin to just make himself comfortable as he went. There was a worrying clunk as the bottle of wine tipped sideways and hit the counter, sending little jars of clove and nutmeg rolling out onto the countertop. He was too busy frantically scratching at his arm to care much.

At least he was until a hand caught his, carefully squeezing.

“I’m going to claw my way up the fucking walls in a minute,” he huffed, squeezing back when he got the urge to scratch again as though it would make it any better.

“Yeah, I know,” Martin gave him a wry smile before letting go to gather up the rest of their bits and pieces. “It’ll get easier, but it’ll definitely drive you up the wall for a while.”

“Have to rely on you to keep me busy and distracted then. You wanna pick out the film?”

“Order first. Then we don’t have to worry about it being peak- actually what time even  _ is _ it? Is it late? It feels like it’s late.”

“Actually it’s only just gone five. For all it felt like hours dealing with that lot Prentiss was apparently a pretty early riser with the nightmare shit.”

The sound Martin made was decidedly strangled and Tim very suddenly remembered, again, the weeks the other had spent barely sleeping and the whole reason Tim had asked him over.

“Yep, bad joke. Saw that about a second afterwards, sorry.”

“Yeah, no, I- It’s fine really. Just glad to be out, even if none of my stuff made it out with me.”

Tim knew for a fact that he didn’ exactly have much down in the archives but he figured fleeing the place you were staying twice in a row was shit regardless. “I mean, it’s warm enough to sleep in boxers but if you want some joggers I don’t mind lending you a pair.”

“And a spare shirt?”

Tim heaved a deep sigh. “If I  _ must _ , but I feel like it’s unfair.”   
  


“Mmm, and how do you figure that one?” Martin raised a stern eyebrow though it couldn’t hide the flush to his cheeks.

“You’re sleeping over! Is it really a sleepover if we don’t end up half-naked in a blanket fort talking about our crushes and experimenting with each other?”

Martin blinked, face going carefully neutral. “I’m pretty sure that’s too much American T.V. talking. I’ve never once had a sleepover end that way.”

Tim shrugged, hopping up on the counter and bringing out his phone finally so they could order. “Just casually crush all my fantasies I guess. You do know how to wound me, Martin.”

“Oh shove off,” Martin laughed, swinging around suddenly and throwing himself side-on against the counter.

“What the- you alright?” Tim dropped the phone on the side, moving to right the other again.

“Yeah, my own fault. I was gonna bump you and then I remembered we’re both injured but I was already going and I just sort of- well. Just overcompensated I guess.”

Tim laughed despite himself, picking up the phone to hand over and gently rubbing a hand up and down the other’s arm to soothe it now he knew this wasn’t some weird after effect. “You’re alright then?”

Martin rolled his eyes but stepped a little closer and into the touch. “I already said, didn’t I?”   
  
“Just checking. Can’t blame a guy for worrying after today.” He made an attempt to hop down that turned into more of a careful slide. The itching was getting worse again and he figured changing was as good a thing as any to distract him until Martin was done.

He gathered up the quilt and a couple of blankets he barely used while he was at it, setting up the couch for as much comfort as he could get on what was no doubt going to be a miserable night regardless.

“Alright I admit,  _ this _ I can get behind,” Martin smiled when he joined him. It was soft and warm and, for a second, not haunted by the rest of the day. Tim figured it wouldn’t be an  _ entirely _ miserable night as long as they were together.

There was a minor argument over  _ 10 things I hate about you _ or  _ The Lord of the Rings _ before Tim brought up the very compelling argument that if they just kept LOTR going they had plausible deniability on sleeping if the prospect was too horrible after night drew in. They were barely past the exposition before their food got in and Tim made the executive decision to bring everything onto the coffee table because he refused to move again for the night.

Tim thought it was a good ploy to keep Martin up with him. What he hadn’t expected was how good Martin was in his own right.

He barely had chance to try and itch twice before Martin took his hand, lacing their fingers together firmly. “To keep you from ripping those back open,” he’d insisted. As though his thumb didn’t end up brushing over the back of Tim’s hand in a way that made him feel at once incredibly fond and teeth gnashingly distracted with how much it made him think of the first brush of the fucking worms before the burrowing started.

“You alright?” He asked after Tim’s hand tried to twitch away the third time in a row.

“Yeah, fine,” he shot back, shuffling in closer to Martin’s side and further into the blind spot between them.

“Fine except…”

“It’s just a bit, the thumb. The rest of it is fine, very good at stopping me from being bad, but it’s just a bit… light? It makes me think of, well,  _ them _ .”

There was a pause for a second before a soft little “Oh.” It stopped moving and instead pressed down with a careful pressure, avoiding the wound there without having to look. “Better?”

Tim hummed an affirmation and took the opportunity to lean in closer and rest his head against Martin’s shoulder, squeezing his hand back. “Did I thank you for agreeing to this? Don’t know what I’d be doing left to my own devices.”

Martin chuckled a little, and if it was strained Tim very gallantly didn’t mention it. “Don’t think there’s much to thank me for. This is nice, and the more I think about it the more I think I’d have hated facing my flat again tonight of all nights.”

It was good, having Martin’s warmth against his side and the gentle pressure tethering him to reality. For a moment or two he let himself half-drift to thoughts of turning his head just so and pressing a kiss up against the other’s stubble-rough jaw.

It would be easy between the two of them, he thought. It would be nice.

A shiver went down his spine, a slither of something across the back of his neck. His nails were tearing frantically at dressing and flesh in an instant, suddenly certain that one had just gone quiet while they patched him up and was up now and  _ burrowing and squirming and eating into his flesh so it could _ -

A hand pushed his own away, clamping down on the back of his neck for a moment with a flare of pain. “-on Tim, look at me.”

“Shit, I can feel one in me.” He frantically went for the wound again, half determined to scratch through Martin’s hand if he bloody well had to.

Instead Martin nodded slowly, a throat bobbing in terror as he brought up the corkscrew to show Tim. It was somehow comforting, to know he was being taken seriously and not just humoured. “Just let me look, alright?”

For all Martin’s voice was shaking, it was all caring and softness and Tim let his arm go limp with a slow nod. He could feel it as Martin pulled away the dressing properly, tutting in worry at the blood there, but all Tim could focus on was how the brush of it felt like a writhing little body. He shut his eyes and focused on breathing. In. He trusted Martin. Out. He’d get any of the bastards that were left over.

“Can’t see any. You want me to try it in case?”

The affirmative was on the tip of his tongue, almost torn out of his throat, when he focussed again on Martin’s careful fingers at the edge of the wound and the way that the squirming felt. Just itching. Just like the rest. After a moment he shook his head. “No. I think I- think it was just-”

“Yeah,” his voice was distant and resigned as he pressed a kiss against Tim’s hair, just at the base of his skull. “Gimme a minute and I’ll get you sorted, you’re bleeding again.”

Tim nodded, not trusting his voice for the moment as he watched the other amble about his flat for a second or two before realising that he had no idea where the first aid kit was and turned to Tim with a sheepish little smile.

“Have you actually  _ got _ -?”

“Yeah, cupboard at the end there. Thanks. For this and offering to screw me again in case there was a worm.”

“Really, a joke  _ now _ ?” Martin huffed as he brought out the little first aid kit with half of the wipes out of date by about two years.

“What can I say, it’s my primary defense mechanism. You mean you  _ don’t _ joke about the existential horrors forming a picket line outside work?”

Martin shook his head and turned him around, fingers gently searching for the edges of the main wound. He hissed a little in pain at the first few brushes of the alcohol wipe, no matter how gentle Martin was obviously trying to be about it.

“No point in trying to make it easier, just get it done with.”

“Yeah, and run the risk of opening it further? I don’t think so,” Martin muttered back, warm breath ghosting across the nape of his neck. This time the shiver wasn’t anything close to fear.

For all his concern about being careful, Martin seemed oddly practiced at patching people up and had it cleaned with a fresh plaster before Tim could spend too long dwelling on the warmth so close to his back.

He put a hand over it when it was done, gentle pressure as if to prove there was no soft, itching movement of a writhing body. When he moved around to look Tim in the eye that pressure was still right there, comforting and warm.

“Is that alright?” He asked, all serious and laser focussed on Tim’s face.

Enough that his eyes flickered to Tim’s lips when he instinctively went to wet them with his tongue. He was certain that he didn’t imagine the slight reflexive tightening of the fingers around his neck. He definitely didn’t imagine the way it made him feel; to have Martin close and focused on him with the odd implacability he always got when taking care of others.

“Perfect,” he smiled, watching as Martin’s throat bobbed.

The air stayed static between them for a moment longer before Tim realised that the pressure at his neck was getting subtly but surely stronger, pulling him in towards Martin’s gravity. He didn’t make a move to fight it, stepping in without protest and tilting his head up just enough to let Martin guide him in.

He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until their lips met and he suddenly realised that the tightness expanding in his chest was as much lack of air as it was anticipation.

Martin hummed softly, a noise of satisfaction that would have made Tim feel pretty smug if he wasn’t too busy gripping at Martin’s elbow with one hand, winding the other up into his hair, and focusing on taking in as much of the gentle warmth of the kiss as he could.

They were pulled apart by the suddenly loud sound of the DVD going back to the menu. Martin looked as flushed as he felt and Tim grinned up at him ruefully, only very reluctantly untangling his hand from the curls he’d been tugging at.

“Next one?” Martin half-smiled. Tim really hoped that look was disappointment.

“Sure. Gotta get settled in before we lose all the warmth anyway. You should get changed, I’ll get set up.”

And yep, that was definitely disappointment. Tim’s stomach lurched in a way that was nothing to do with fear for the first time in a while as he scrambled to get everything sorted, kneeling on the couch so he could see Martin coming back out of the bedroom.

It was… a very good sight. Tim wished he had the nerve to get out his phone camera, but supposed if he played his cards right it might not be the last time he got to see Martin in his clothes. His baggy joggers ended up almost fitted on the other and looking at how his thighs filled them out did things to Tim’s libido that his crashed-out-on-adrenaline body just couldn’t cash in on for the night.

“Looking good Marto, I need to get you over more often,” he smiled, ignoring Martin’s little uncomfortable tug at the edge of his shirt as he reached out and took his hand, pulling him back into the quilt cocoon. Well, not quite pulling, his body hurt way too much for that but it was definitely at least an insistent tug that got his point across.

He was happy when there was no resistance and handed the edge of the quilt over to Martin before cupping his cheeks gently but very deliberately.

“I think I’d like to pick up where we left off, if there are no objections?”

Martin’s smile was gentle and he snorted out a laugh. “You expect me to object?”   
  
“Well you’re allowed to, if you’re not sure, after thinking about it.”

Martin pulled back for a moment, appearing to very seriously mull the question over. “Alright, on one condition,” he finally nodded.

“Shoot,” Tim smiled, as though his mind wasn’t immediately shuffling through the dozens of options for what kind of soft ‘this is only a one time thing’ sort of stipulation he was about to get.

“Hands in my hair at all times. No using this as a distraction so you can get at those wounds.”

Tim blinked, smile slowly easing wider. Martin was an absolute genius of a man. “I swear it.” He offered solemnly, bringing his hands up slow and deliberate like a surrender before threading them deep into Martin’s hair.

The way the other’s eyes darkened made his mouth go a little dry. Could definitely get used to this.

“I’m glad we agree.” Martin, careful of the clear stretches of his skin, pulled him in closer until their lips met and Tim forgot entirely about worms for a few very good minutes.


End file.
